


Demons Can't be Drowned

by Dinoswords



Category: The Evil Within (Video Game)
Genre: Implied Relationships, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 08:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14397732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dinoswords/pseuds/Dinoswords
Summary: Sebastian reminices the loss of his best friend over a glass of whiskey.





	Demons Can't be Drowned

Dull music lulled in the back of Sebastian’s mind, blurring together with his surroundings. The background noise seemed distant, despite the fact he was seated in the back corner of the bar, right next to the jukebox. His fingers weakly clung to a scotch glass, his head resting against the table, eyes focused on nothing.

Everything was muted. Muffled and blurred by his intoxication.

Ironically enough, the booze he seeked to distract him from his thoughts only seemed to amplify them. It beckoned bad memories forward, digging up remnants of the past he’d finally begun to bury. Maybe Joseph had a point when he said sinking to the bottom of a bottle wasn’t the answer.

_Joseph._

The name crossed his thoughts and fell quietly on his lips. He squeezed his eyes shut. A mistake: The younger detective’s image flashed across his eyelids, as fresh as the day it’d happened. The bullet striking his chest, the explosion of red--Sebastian remembered it all too well.

His eyes started to sting, and he brought his free hand up to massage them. When his fingers pressed to his eyes, he realised they were moist. When had he started crying?

He lifted his head for the first time in what must’ve been hours. A quick survey of the bar revealed very few patrons, a couple(the bartender included) offering him suspicious glances. 

The small amount of people struck Seb as odd, considering it was late on a Saturday. Or was it Sunday? He couldn’t even tell anymore. The days, ever since Beacon, melted together. There was never much for him to remember anyways. He spent most of his time either zoned out and distant or drunk, stumbling through his days nearly mindless. 

He groaned, burying his face in his hands. He wanted to focus on something, _anything_ other than the final memories of his best friend that had been burned into the back of his eyelids. Yet tonight, it was all he could think of. 

Jesus. It should’ve been him. It truly should have been.

The thought of such an alternate reality was one that plagued him relentlessly. The ‘what if’s creeping into his head slowly, ambushing his thoughts in times like this. What if it had been him? What if Joseph had gotten away safely? What if he were here instead of Sebastian?

Surely things would be better. It wasn’t like Sebastian had much left anyways. 

Well, no. That wasn’t accurate. Sebastian, at this point, didn’t have _anything_ left. His little girl was dead, the very love of his life gone, and now, he’d lost his best and only friend, too. His only drive for anything anymore was finding Kidman and getting some answers about Mobius. But even that fire was starting to burn out, considering it’d been nearly three years since the incident at Beacon, and still he’d found nothing. It was as if Mobius were a phantom; they’d hidden right under everyone’s noses, then ghosted out of existence again after Beacon. A silent threat constantly creeping in the shadows. Wherever they’d disappeared to, they’d taken Kidman with them.

And Sebastian couldn't do anything to stop them.

He clenched his fist, slamming it on the table, his glass rattling from the impact. “Dammit!” He swallowed, his throat and chest aching, tears pricking the corners of his eyes again. He didn’t even notice the stares his outburst had earned him as he sunk into his seat.

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. Joseph should’ve made it out--hell, neither of them should’ve even fell victim to it in the first place.

He gripped his drink and brought it to his lips.

Seb grimaced as it burned down his throat. With each sip, it seemed the ache rooted in his chest only greatened.

Joseph was a good man. No, better than good. He was one of, if not _the_ best, Seb had ever known. Always so driven, so _ambitious_. He was always able to keep a level head, to calm Sebastian down when he needed it. The two of them were a near perfect team, despite their polar temperaments. Rather than it holding them back, their differences only pushed them higher.

Multiple occasions came to mind immediately. Sebastian had gotten out of hand more than once, letting his emotions get the best of him. Especially when killers were involved--Sebastian had the hardest time keeping a level head around them. The idea of taking someone's life _sickened_ him.

But then again, in Beacon, he supposed that was all he did. He pushed the thought away, gritting his teeth.

Joseph just had a way of calming him down, though. Sometimes all he'd need was a gentle squeeze on his arm from his partner, and he’d find himself halting whatever rash action instantly. Seb had clicked with him unlike any partner before him.

Not to mention the sheer support Joseph had offered Seb when Lily had died, and again when Myra had disappeared. Joseph had always been extremely dedicated to his work ever since Sebastian had met him. The total of times he'd called off in all nine years of their partnership could be counted on one hand, and two of those times were for him. When Lily had died, and when Myra had gone missing.

Sebastian still remembered those days. The first time, Joseph had shown up at his door with two small makeshift care packages: one for him, the other for Myra. Both were stuffed to the brim with goodies tailored to their respective tastes, and Joseph spent the day with the two, offering all the comfort he could give.

The second time, he’d done something similar. This memory was clearer, and Sebastian still remembered how _empty_ his home had felt that morning. It still felt hollow, but as time went on, he’d grown somewhat used to it and the hurt dulled as much as it could.

Joseph’s knocking had echoed through the house, and when Seb had opened the door, he was surprised to see his friend standing there. He was silent for a moment, unsure of how to greet him.

“O-oh, Joseph,” He’d begun, somewhat awkwardly, “What’re you doing here?”

Joseph pushed his glasses up, his eyes meeting Sebastian’s solemnly. “You’re my friend, Seb. I can’t just leave you alone.”

Sebastian sighed, yet found himself grinning, however slightly. Straight to the point, as always. “You could. You don’t have to do this. I know how much your work matters to you.”

Joseph merely shook his head. “You matter more.”

It was at that point that Sebastian had stepped aside and allowed Joseph in, turning away in a vain attempt to hide his feelings. They’d overwhelmed him the moment his best friend was in arm’s length, though, and he couldn’t have stopped himself from wrapping Joseph in a tight hug if he’d wanted to.

Thinking of the statement had always tugged at Sebastian’s heart. Before, it had given him a sense of comfort. A gentle warmth that could make him smile, reminding him that even in the worst of times, he had someone he could depend on. But now, that someone was gone, and all it did was hurt.

Joseph had always been there when Seb had needed him, no matter if the problem were big or small. Other than Myra, he’d been the only one Sebastian felt he could come to for comfort.

Guilt bubbled up in his gut again, and he tried to will it down by downing the last bit of alcohol in his glass. Joseph had been a loyal friend, staying by Seb’s side even in that hell that was Beacon. Yet when Joseph had needed him most, Sebastian had failed him.

He should’ve been able to help him. To stop Kidman’s shot. To at least call out sooner, to _warn_ him.

_Fuck._

He found himself needing to bring his sleeve across his eyes again. Goddammit. He was so pathetic, sulking in a bar, trying to drown his problems. Not for the first time, either: he’d been just the same with Lily and Myra. Yet the allure of the flashing neon above the door outside was too strong when sorrow befell him, drawing him in like a moth to a lamp.

_I'm sorry._

He knew it was wrong. He knew he shouldn't be here. He knew he should be looking for Kidman, trying to fix this mess that his life had spiralled into as much as he could. Trying to get some sense of avengement, of closure for Joseph. He couldn't bring himself to stop, though. He could tell himself he’d go straight and set out to search again tomorrow, but he’d be lying to himself.

_I'm sorry._

His hope wavered further.

He’d never find Kidman, nor Mobius. They were too good at what they did. A washed up cop against an entire organization? What an idiot he'd been to think he’d be capable of hunting them down.

_I'm sorry, Joseph._

He couldn’t bear to think of it any longer. How he'd failed his family, and now his best friend. He shook his head, holding it in his hands, not even bothering to try and keep his eyes dry. Each breath he drew trembled, and his hands had a hard time staying steady. 

Shakily, he pushed himself up from his seat in the booth. He grabbed his coat, and started to clumsily make his way to the door. He couldn't stay here. All he’d do is make a scene with his misery, or pass out and wake up terrified by some nightmare again, or even have a nervous breakdown. He couldn’t imagine that he’d be able to hang around much longer before being kicked out anyways.

So he slipped his coat on, pushed the doors open, and stepped outside, one thought on his mind.

_I'm sorry._


End file.
